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For The PLAYWRIGHT 

FANNY CANNON 



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DO'S AND DON'T'S 

For the PLAYWRIGHT 



DO'S AND DON'T'S 
for the PLAYWRIGHT 

A Manual 

For the Writer of Plays for 

Amateurs 

BY 

FANNY GANNON 

Author of 

"Caselda Comes Home," "What's In a Name?" "The 

Lady of the Opera House," "Writing and 

Selling a Play"; co-author of 

"The Mark of the Beast" 

and "Meow!" 




CHICAGO 

T. S. DENISON & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



^°rx^ 






FOREWORD 



c-^-^u^ 



A MANUAL o£ this size can 
only touch briefly on a few 
points of a lar&e subject. Never- 
theless it is hoped that it will 
contain many valuable hints not 
only for the novice in play- writ- 
ing, but for the more experienced 
writer desirous of preparing plays 
for the amateur performer, who 
is creating a demand all his own. 



COPYRIGHT, 1922 
<ByT 

FANNY CANNON 

OCT -« "1322 / 



H. 



©CU686036' 



CONTENTS 



FIRST PART 7 

In General. 

I. Amateur Theatricals 7 

II. The Stage 9 

Its Appearance. Scenery. Diagram. 
Directions. 

III. Professional and Amateur Plays 12 

IV. The Story 13 

Selection. The Unities. Conflict. Sub- 
plots. Action. 

V. Characters 14 

Their types. Their names. 

VI. The Scenario 16 

VII. The Division into Acts 17 

VIII. Visualizing 18 

IX. Sequence 19 

The Exposition. The Conditions Pre- 
cedent. Withholding Information. 

X. Sequence 22 

Climax. Conclusion. Novelty. 

XI. Reviewing the Scenario 23 

Seen and Unseen Side of Story. Sit- 
uations. "Planting." Irrelevancy. Dia- 
logue. 

SECOND PART 27 

In Particular. 

I. The Amateur Performer 27 

Acting Ability. The Professional Di- 
rector. The Amateur's Audience. Ex- 
pense of Sets. Directions for Per- 
formance. 

5 



CONTENT S— Continued 

II. The Story 30 

Selection. Restrictions. Prohibited 
Themes and Plots. Prohibited Scenes. 

III. Changes of Scenery 32 

IV. Cast of Characters 33 

How Many. Type. 

V. The Dialogue 34 

VI. Soliloquy and Aside 37 

VII. Types of Plays 38 

Serious. Humorous. Tragedy. Drama. 
Melodrama. 

VIII. Comedy and Farce 40 

IX. One Act Plays 41 

X. Musical Comedy 42 

XI. Minstrel Shows 42 

XII. Vaudeville 43 

Slap-stick. Monologues. Recitations. 
"Tabs." 

XIII. Suggestions for Writers 45 

THIRD PART 47 

And Lastly. 

I. What to Do 47 

II. What Not to Do 49 

III. Just a Remark 51 

IV. Preparation of MSS in General 51 

V. Preparation of MSS for Publishers 54 

VI. The Finished Play 56 

Length. Language. 

VII. Plagiarism 57 

VIII. Study 58 

IX. Definitions of Terms 59 

Bibliography 65 

6 



FIRST PART 



IN GENERAL 



I 

In Harry Osborne's very able and comprehensive 
little manual, "How to Stage a Play," published by 
T. S. Denison & Company, he says there are four 
things that go to make up a successful amateur pro- 
duction, and the first of these is the play. I would 
amend this to say, especially for amateur companies, 
the first of these is the playwright. 

The reason why the dramatist is of peculiar im- 
portance where the amateur is concerned will be 
readily understood. A company of professional 
players has often lifted a bad play into some sem- 
blance of success, certainly of amusement, through 
skillful portrayal of the various roles. But, unless 
trained to an almost professional state by long asso- 
ciation in many plays and many public performances, 
when a company of amateurs attempts a bad play 
it only becomes worse. And a good play, if it be 
beyond the powers of the average non-professional, 
is ruined. 

Amateur theatricals have been growing steadily 
since the war. In fact it might almost be said that 
the war gave them their greatest impetus. The de- 
mand began to come in from cantonments for plays, 
not only for the townspeople to act for the soldiers, 
but chiefly for the soldiers to produce and act them- 
selves. Different units of the Young Men's Christian 
Association and similar organizations took plays 
7 



DO'S AND DONT'S 



with them to France, and the Overseas Theatre 
League called for more for its various companies in 
the A. E. F. 

Then, too, those at home in cities and towns remote 
from New York, Chicago, and other big theatrical 
centers were not visited as frequently as usual by 
touring theatrical companies because of war condi- 
tions. The cry had gone out to keep up the morale of 
the country. So these various places began to put on 
their own entertainments, for the Red Cross, for local 
soldiers' benefits, and so on. It was found to be an ex- 
cellent community method of reaching one's neigh- 
bors, of bringing all sorts of people together, taking 
them out of themselves during difficult periods ; in 
short, it proved to be a modern and sophisticated 
equivalent of the old-time dances and pageants on 
the village green. Universities and schools, churches 
and hospitals, community houses and prisons have 
welcomed this healthy method of stimulating interest 
and awakening certain moral and psychological 
qualities. Naturally, having learned all this, a good 
thing is not being given up, now that the war is 
over ; on the contrary, it is more popular than ever. 

Therefore, since the business of publishing plays 
specifically intended for amateur abilities is steadily 
increasing it becomes necessary for the playwright 
desirous of meeting this demand to inform himself 
not only of the usual matters which are an essential 
part of every dramatist's equipment, but particularly 
of those which concern the amateur and his abilities 
and limitations. 

There are several exhaustive books by well-known 
authorities, with which a manual of this size could 
not attempt to compete. Hence we will not try to 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 



do more than merely touch on the most important 
features of play-writing in general, as a guide and 
introduction to further study and practice. 

Do not think for one moment that the mere read- 
ing, or even study, of any book on play-writing is 
going to be more than a guide on how to begin. 
To learn how to write plays, you must write plays, 
and more plays, then re-write them, not once, but 
many times. Play-writing is not easy. Do not let 
any glib writer on the subject deceive you for a mo- 
ment. Of course, as in all arts, practice and ex- 
perience will help to bring the necessary knowledge of 
technique. This knowledge of the way to begin and 
to end, to plan and to write, finally becomes a part 
of one's mental processes, and the writing becomes 
easier, less beset with the many pitfalls into which 
the novice strays so readily. For every play pro- 
duced I suppose there are hundreds written. Not 
all of these are by newcomers. Even the so-called 
successful playwright not only has failures but also 
has plays which managers do not accept. 

So, do not think to find an infallible method for 
success in this or any other book, no matter how ex- 
haustive. You will be helped, advised, and guided 
as far as may be, then you must go forward alone — 
until you are ready for more advice and guidance 
and healthy criticism. 

II 

One of the first things of which the embryo drama- 
tist must inform himself is what I might term the 
general geography of the stage. For the amateur 
actor, this "stage" is often only a space at one end 
of a parlor, without footlights, platform, scenery, 



10 DO'S AND DONTS 

or curtain, and with only the most necessary acces- 
sories of furniture and properties. In fact, experi- 
enced players have sometimes given performances 
under just such conditions, though not in this day, 
it may be added, as members of a professional troupe, 
but in some affair staged for charity in which these 
players happened to be interested personally. The 
fact of such conditions being possible explains why 
in the catalogue of the play publisher there are 
many short plays requiring few characters, little 
scenery, and so on. Often those in which the scenery 
is described are so written that it can be dispensed 
with. In fact, two of the present writer's playlets 
were written to order for just such occasions, to be 
acted before women's clubs in hotel parlors, where all 
of the disadvantages of no dressing-rooms in the 
wings, no curtain or footlights, nothing but a low 
platform and the needed chairs, had to be taken into 
account in the play-writing. 

Hence, in informing himself as to the methods of 
the playwright, the author of plays for amateurs 
need not feel it necessary to start with long plays 
requiring scenery and costumes, but can begin by 
learning to meet the demand for shorter plays which 
the amateur will find easy to stage and act at short 
notice and without too much preparation. 

Nevertheless, whether the play is short or long, 
acted in a barn during the summer vacation or in a 
rented theatre at the height of the season, the 
"stage" means that part of the room or enclosure on 
which the performance is given, and its "layout" is 
the same, as far as directions are concerned, in the 
manuscript prepared by the author. 

A knowledge of the physical stage, therefore, with 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 11 

its limitations and possibilities is one of the first of 
the mechanical or technical necessities of play- 
writing. 

To help this matter of the stage and its various 
features, a series of extended definitions will be found 
at the end of this manual, explaining those terms and 
expressions used by the playwright in his manuscript 
and general work. I also include a diagram. 



Back Drop Exterior 




^oor|- 



Footlights 
Stage Boxed-in for Interior Setting 

In the manuscript of a beginner who is unfamiliar 
with the stage, the directions used had best be of the 
simplest and most general variety, else only confu- 
sion will result. Directions are always given from 
the point of view of the actor, as, in the last analysis, 
they are meant for him. His point of view is nat- 
urally with relation to his audience; the right side 
of the stage is the actor's right when facing front, 
and so on. Exits and entrances, even on a stage 
without scenery, are definitely fixed in each scene at 
certain points, through doors and other openings, 
whether imaginary or visible. Only in exteriors rep- 
resenting open squares or tree spaces can the char- 
acters enter from any point of the stage. The author 
usually writes with a diagram of the stage, as set 



12 DO'S AND DON'T'S 

for the act upon which he is working, where it can 
be frequently consulted. 

Ill 

So much for the mechanical stage. Whatever sort 
of play you write, you must not, dare not, ignore it. 
If your play is for amateurs, its every stage quality 
must be practical and simple. It is very rare indeed 
for an amateur company to wish to spend large sums 
of money in unusual or elaborate settings or lighting 
effects. As we are now coming to the story, bear 
this in mind in selecting and assembling your plot 
and characters. 

All of the rules governing the writing of plays 
for Broadway are, or should be, observed in the con- 
struction of a play for amateurs. It is true, as a 
general thing, that the amateur plays to a less 
critical audience than does the regular theatrical com- 
pany. It is therefore also true that certain things 
may be permitted in the play for amateurs which 
would be too tame for the blase theatre-goer of 
Broadway. Both of these truths exist because of the 
general nature of the amateur company or club. The 
reason is plain. It should be obvious to the least dis- 
cerning that the amateur who gives only a small part 
of his time and attention to acting cannot as a rule 
compete with the man or woman whose life work it is. 
The exception usually gives up his business and "goes 
on the stage." 

It is this fact and this alone which causes the dis- 
tinction between the professional and amateur play. 
There is no difference in technique; the difference 
is to be found in the subject chosen and the acting 
demands of the finished product. 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 13 

IV 

The first important thing in writing the play, any 
play, is the story. Not all stories are suited to the 
play form. Selection is therefore necessary. Plays 
represent the dynamic phases of life, whether tragic 
or humorous. Events must be of such a nature as 
to reconcile us to their occurrence in the short period 
of the performance. 

Also the story must deal with one complete episode 
or plot, with its beginning, its middle, and its end. 
Everything in the play, every character, every situ- 
ation, must deal with the development of one main 
idea. This is the oft-mentioned Unity of Action. 

At this point it might be well to refer to "The 
Unities" as set forth by Aristotle in his famous laws 
for writers. The three so-called Unities are the Unity 
of Time, of Place, and of Action. In the old Greek 
drama these were more or less rigidly adhered to. 
Today in the play and the short story, the Unity 
of Action remains as strict a rule as ever. The other 
two Unities are somewhat more elastic; nevertheless, 
the more nearly they are followed the stronger and 
more closely knit will be the resulting work. The 
Unity of Time insists that the episode must occur 
within one day ; the Unity of Place, that it must 
occur in one place, frequently in one room. 

From the foregoing it will appear that the play- 
form is at its best when compact. The story you 
have selected should be of one plot, capable of being 
fully told in the play-form as compactly as possible, 
and of dramatic or humorous importance. 

A stage-plot, as a general rule, involves some sort 
of conflict, a "clash of wills" as someone has ex- 
pressed it : This conflict or clash may be entirely 



14 DO'S AND DON'T'S 

mental or psychological, as the struggle between two 
natures in one person ; it may be moral, it may be 
physical. The conflict need not be serious. It may 
be of a wholly comedy aspect. But a story in which 
everybody agreed with everybody else, being at the 
same time entirely pleased with themselves, would not 
lend itself to the play-form. The conflict need not 
be intentional on the part of the characters. In fact 
some of the most amusing plays have been written 
around personalities utterly innocent of causing any 
trouble at all. 

Modern plays no longer permit of the so-called 
sub-plot. This was a secondary and less important 
story running along with the major episode. It was 
often "comedy relief," injected into tragedies and 
heavy drama to offset the sombre tone of the rest. 
It is taboo today. If any change in tone or tempo 
is required to relieve the tension, that relief is a defi- 
nite part of the main theme. 

Your story must have what we term "action. 5 * 
This need not mean activity in the ordinary sense, 
but that quality of "something doing" which may 
be active, or present in the dialogue as an under- 
current. It is the forward movement of the plot, 
a constant sense that we are getting somewhere. 

We will take up the various types of story suitable 
for amateur performance when we come to deal more 
particularly with that phase of the work. 



Having reached the decision that your chosen 
story is suitable, you have found yourself creating 
certain characters as parts of its development. You 
may add to these as you go along, or eliminate a 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 15 

few; but people you must have, since your play 
concerns people. In fiction the author speaks quite 
as often as do his characters. In the play, the char- 
acters alone do the talking. It is most important, 
therefore, that they should be the right characters. 

It is not at any time a question of just giving 
"lines" and speeches to a number of people and tell- 
ing your story through their questions and answers. 
The people must be individuals, and what they say 
must be in keeping with that individuality. You 
can create any types or characters you choose, so 
long as they are human and not automatons. But 
once created, you must not let them do or say things 
such people would find impossible to do or say. See 
to it, since you are responsible, that you have just 
enough people, and of just the right kind, to tell 
your story for you. They must be consistent and 
simple. That does not mean simple-minded, but 
holding to one type or individuality throughout your 
play. In life there are many seemingly complex and 
uncertain personalities. These, however, are difficult 
to use in a novice's play, so we keep to the most 
noticeable and salient characteristics of the people 
telling the story. Subtle characters, as a rule, are 
exceedingly difficult to act, and therefore beyond the 
ability of the average amateur player. 

It will be only necessary to touch briefly on the 
matter of the names you give them. Descriptive 
nomenclature, as it is called, has gone into disuse; 
for instance, such names as "Simon Skinflint," to 
represent a miser, appear so infrequently as to be 
noticeable when they do occur in some burlesque or 
parody. In general, however, the stronger charac- 
ters have names of dignity and strength, and vice 



16 DO'S AND DON'T'S 

versa. Suppose "Lady Macbeth" had been named 
"Flossie" ! Also remember that the names, or at 
least part of them, are to be spoken aloud by other 
people in the play. Do not call two characters by 
names similar in sound, unless the resulting confusion 
is intentional. Do not give any character a name 
which will sound funny in a scene meant to be serious. 

VI 

Up to this point you are only realizing your story 
in a general way. You have decided that it is of a 
type which will make a play and have thought of the 
characters which are part of it. It is at this stage 
that the scenario begins to take shape. This is your 
chart of procedure. 

Not all playwrights use a detailed scenario from 
which to work, but there must be some sort of plan, 
or synopsis, or preliminary plotting out. You must 
determine on certain stages of development. In 
other words, you divide your plot into acts, decid- 
ing on how much of your story can be told logically 
in each one. The more you plan all this before you 
begin to write, the easier the actual writing will be. 
To start in and write your play without any idea 
of where the dialogue will lead you will certainly 
land you in difficulties, even if the result is not so 
bad as to take you nowhere in particular. 

On the other hand, do not be afraid to change 
your plan at any stage of the writing, if you can 
find a better way. There are no hard and fast rules 
about this planning and plotting. But whatever 
changes you make, keep them consistent throughout. 
If in Act Two you find you can best tell your story 
by changing what started out to be drama into a 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 17 

farce, all right; farce let it be. Go back and over- 
haul Act One to bring it into line with the farce idea. 

VII 

If you are planning a one-act play, a form pop- 
ular with amateurs, be sure your story is one capable 
of proper development in this shorter form. One- 
act plays usually run, in acting time, from fifteen 
to forty-five minutes. The longer one-act plays, as 
a rule, are of slightly more dramatic or serious na- 
ture. Half-an-hour is a usual favored length for a 
one-act play. This necessitates a concise story, 
quickly and compactly told, complete with its be- 
ginning, its middle, and its end. 

These three periods of development, used in all 
plots, whether for short or long plays, point out 
one reason why the three-act play is a more natural 
division than the four- and five-act dramas. In any 
case, the plays of more than three acts are almost al- 
ways the more dramatic, or tragic, or melodramatic 
writings, and are therefore not advisable for the 
amateur. 

There happen to have been a number of success- 
ful plays for amateurs with but two acts. Such are 
frequently given on programs where the play is only 
part of the bill. It may be remarked that the two- 
act play rarely appears on the professional stage 
except in musical comedy. When it does, it is usually 
a one-act play divided into two scenes to show the 
passage of a certain length of time. The two-act 
play is in relatively small demand. 

But whether the play is in one or five acts, it can 
be divided generally into those three steps of develop- 
ment : The beginning, the middle, and the end ; or the 



18 DO'S AND DONT'S 

exposition, the rise to the climax, and the working out 
of this climax to the explanation or finale. 

VIII 

Let us pause here for a moment to formulate four 
general rules of play-writing, all of them really self- 
evident. First, know your medium, the stage, its 
limitations, its possibilities, its appeal to both eye 
and ear ; second, have a clear and single story to tell ; 
third, be sure this story is of one plot and suitable 
for the play-form ; and fourth, learn how to put 
your story on the stage, how to turn your plot into 
a play to be acted by living actors. 

In dealing with the scenario or plan, we are be- 
ginning to do something with Rule Four. And now a 
valuable ingredient in your own make-up steps in. 
This is the ability to visualize, to see your plot alive, 
being acted out, your characters moving about, 
speaking, laughing, crying. You can more than see 
them, you can hear them, in that inner sight which 
knows them real. You are not writing words, but 
voicing people's thoughts, directing their actions, 
making them smile or suffer — and you can see them 
doing it all, at every stage of your work, once you 
have brought them into existence. 

This most necessary quality is not natural to 
everyone, though it is safe to assume it to be de- 
veloped in some degree in those who possess any gift 
for writing. Most people can either acquire it or 
enlarge what slight beginning they may have by 
practice. You can start with memory. Recall some 
scene you have just lived through, and "see" it as 
you saw it then. Next, in your mind dramatize the 
scene, enlarge on it, change it, always seeing the 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 19 

people, the room and so on. You can develop this 
idea in any direction you choose. The reason this 
quality is necessary is that you must never forget 
that your play must be practical, capable of being 
acted, and you must be able to visualize it as being 
acted all the time you are writing. If you do not 
see and hear your people with every speech, every 
line of business you set down, you are not going to 
achieve a real play. 

IX 

The events in a play must be shown in their proper 
order. This is not the place to discuss the unusual 
or odd plays which seem to work backward, though, 
in the last analysis, these, too, might be said to show 
their events in what the author has determined is 
their proper order. If certain events occur it must 
be because certain other events preceded. They 
grow out of each other in a sort of chain of events, 
or rather, a sequence of events. We are therefore 
taken step by step to the denouement. 

The first stage of development, or the first set of 
sequences, the beginning or exposition, is now our 
subject of discussion. 

The story you have in your mind has a beginning. 
But the beginning as you have thought about it 
may not be the beginning of the play. You must 
decide on the point where you wish events to begin 
to happen on the stage. There are things you can 
actually show, there are others you can only briefly 
touch on, and others are merely spoken about. There 
are certain things which happened before the curtain 
went up on that particular point of the story which 
you have determined is the right place to start. 



20 DO'S AND DQN'T'S 

These things occurring beforehand have been called 
the "Conditions Precedent." They are the matters 
about which we must learn something, but as they 
occurred before the play began, we must learn of 
them in the way the stage provides. 

You are now putting into practice one of the 
sternest rules of stage-craft. Not one phase of the 
plot which cannot be mentioned or shown by your 
actors can be part of your play. In fiction, you 
can give long descriptions telling us all about who 
the people are, where they came from, and why they 
are here. In a play, the people themselves must 
tell us that. On the program, you may tell us to a 
limited extent who they are in the cast of char- 
acters, and also the program can show time and lo- 
cality. More than that is out of place in a manu- 
script. You may write enough "business" to inspire 
player and director to a better showing forth of 
qualities and appearances. But your Conditions 
Precedent, when necessary, must reach us solely 
through the stage presentation. 

Nor can the players talk about these earlier mat- 
ters as if giving information to the audience. If 
Mary's father has divorced his wife, and the wife has 
married again before the play begins, and if the fact 
of the divorce and remarriage is important to plot 
development, then the "scandal" can be given as a 
bit of gossip by one character who knows about it, 
to someone new to the neighborhood. The informa- 
tion must come at the right place and in a perfectly 
natural manner. It is part of the exposition, since 
a knowledge of it is necessary to our comprehension 
of what is to follow. The skillful dramatist starts 
us right off in the midst of things without our being 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 21 

aware he is actually explaining who everybody is 
and what are the causes which have brought them 
together. A first act is nearly all exposition, though 
the necessary information about things and people 
may be scattered adroitly throughout the entire act 
instead of being massed in the first few scenes. In 
a one-act play, of course the exposition would be 
brief and come at the very beginning. 

However, sometimes plot development may require 
the withholding of a certain piece of information as 
to who somebody is. The right place for that in- 
formation to enter the play is where it will produce 
the best effect, whether it be the first act or the last. 

At the same time, while the exposition is the 
greater part of the first act, this same act must have 
latent in it all that follows — a speech here, a bit of 
business there, some trait of character, or the various 
relationships — all these must hold the possibilities 
for all which is to come later. That is why you have 
brought them together. 

In short, your plot begins to develop from the 
first scene; the exposition has started the ball roll- 
ing. The various characters are being introduced 
to us in their proper order and in the right way. 
That does not mean we have to see all of the char- 
acters in Act One. But we often hear something 
about people we are going to meet later. On the 
other hand some characters have a certain mysterious 
quality which is part of the plot, and these do not 
appear until quite late in the play for purposes of 
dramatic effect. Or a few minor characters may 
have no reason for appearing until they are needed, 
as the policeman who arrests the villain or the mes- 
senger who brings on a telegram. 



22 DO'S AND DON'T'S 

X 

We are now working toward the climax. This 
crisis is the place where everything seems tangled 
up, the "tying of the knot," as Aristotle called it. 
In comedy or farce it is the point where everybody 
in the cast is bewildered or fooled, or where some 
schemer has succeeded in "putting it over." What- 
ever it is which has caused the crisis, humorous or 
tragic, it is of such a nature that another act is 
needed to untangle the knot, or explain the result, 
or foil the villain, or whatever your conclusion is. 

It will be seen from the foregoing that the conclu- 
sion must be kept in mind from the beginning, I 
have said it was latent in Act One. It must be a 
possible conclusion to follow the dilemma or climax 
you have built. This does not mean you, as author, 
always know just exactly the manner in which you 
will write your conclusion ; but it does mean that 
you know what it is to be. While writing, you often 
find a better way to do a thing than you had origi- 
nally planned ; but you know, or should have an idea, 
what you intend to have happen as the ending of 
your plot. It will not be feasible to pursue this 
subject further, else this will not be a manual but a 
two-hundred page volume. When you really begin 
to write you will also begin to understand. 

In any case, while we are working toward this 
climax, it must be of such a nature as to make for 
a logical conclusion when the time comes. Yet it 
must not be so simple that your conclusion is too 
obvious or inevitable as to details. If it is a real 
tangle or crisis, the working to the conclusion can be 
just as interesting or even surprising as all that pre- 
cedes. In general, the audience knows that it is "all 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 23 

coming out right," and they know which characters 
deserve to triumph, and so on, so there is not always 
any great surprise. But, if lacking surprise, it must 
satisfy as being a real and logical solution. 

Before the actual solution or finale is reached, 
that is, before the last few scenes of the play, it is 
quite possible to give a new twist to events. Yet, 
no matter how new or unexpected this novel turn of 
affairs may be, it still must be contained as a possi- 
bility in all that preceded it. 

You cannot have a surprise finish which is out of 
keeping with the characters or the plot or the sur- 
roundings. You are not writing Greek drama which 
permitted the sudden arrival of some friendly god 
or goddess to set everything straight. It is all there 
in your own plot, your own people. A surprise that 
is only a surprise, injected for novelty and without 
preparation, is not a part of good play-writing. 

XI 

We will suppose, now, that your plan is complete, 
or perhaps even the first transcript of a play roughly 
sketched in ; it will be well to review it throughout 
with the idea of making sure of certain things. 

Every play has its seen and its unseen side. Fic- 
tion can relate in full; a play shows only certain 
aspects. These must be the situations and circum- 
stances capable of dramatic presentation. You may 
have a good plot, but if you choose the wrong situa- 
tions to express it, you will fail. The power of right 
selection is a quality of the dramatic instinct. 

The unseen side of a play is that part of it which 
reaches us as information of past or present events 
through the dialogue ; the seen side is, of course, the 



24 DO'S AND DONT'S 

side we see acted before our eyes. Here, too, is where 
the ability to visualize will be a potent guide. You 
must get all of your story "over" to the audience 
through the medium of the actors and their surround- 
ings. Only those phases of it best suited to that 
medium can be shown ; the rest must be adroitly con- 
veyed to us through the dialogue. 

Another point is concerned with the various situ- 
ations. Properly arranged in sequence, each situa- 
tion arises as the result of certain other matters 
which have already occurred. Occasionally it is 
necessary to "plant" a situation beforehand. By this 
we mean any preliminary emphasis on information 
or characterization. If certain things are going to 
happen later, they may be of such a nature that we 
need to be prepared for them, for some reason of 
plot development. In preparing a MS. we may reach 
a place where we find some new development or un- 
expected turn creeping in. If this seems to us good 
and useful to the plot, we may find it advisable to 
go back over earlier scenes and "plant" the seed for 
this newly evolved situation. You may "plant" for 
later situations as you go along, or you may have 
to go back over the MS. to do it ; it may be managed 
by speeches here and there, by stage business, or by 
other means of getting our minds ready for the situ- 
ation toward which we are building. Not all situa- 
tions need this planting; some must have it. 

Just one illustration from a Broadway production 
will help explain this matter to those who may not 
see the point. The hero is trying to make the heroine 
believe that a certain terrible experience through 
which she has just passed is only a dream, as she 
had collapsed into unconsciousness immediately and 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 25 

had slept long under an opiate administered by the 
physician. She is only partly convinced of the dream 
idea, yet anxious to believe him. She suddenly re- 
members that toward the end of the "dream" she 
had telephoned for help. If there is a record of 
such a call, it was not a dream but an actuality. She 
rushes to the telephone, and is relieved to learn that 
there was no such call listed, and her horrible plight 
had been only an unusually vivid nightmare. A 
friend of the hero, sharing in this plot to save her 
reason, murmurs : "Thank God !" "And a fifty- 
dollar bill!" answers the hero. No other explana- 
tion is given ; but we do not need it. It had been 
"planted" in the preceding act by the hero going to 
the telephone and finding out from the hotel opera- 
tor her hour for going off duty, and asking if he 
may see her in regard to something to her advan- 
tage. At the time we do not stop to think why he 
does this ; things are moving too fast ; it may even 
pass out of memory for the moment. But when we 
see the heroine rush to the instrument to ask the 
fatal question, we at once recall the hero's earlier 
message and know exactly what he has done. It 
saved an explanation at a point in the play when 
explanations would have clogged the action. We 
know that the operator has been bribed to take this 
call off the list. The situation has been skillfully 
planted. 

There are times in any play when it becomes nec- 
essary to slightly delay action, or withhold inform- 
ation until some more dramatic point. In the at- 
tempt to do this, do not make a frequent mistake 
of novices, who, in their efforts to retard, wander off 
into irrelevancy. 



26 DO'S AND DONTS 

We have touched only briefly here and there on 
the dialogue. If your characters are distinct and 
human, real people, and your plan clear in your 
mind, the dialogue is perhaps the easiest part of a 
difficult job. It should be natural, colloquial, with 
whatever of local color or dialect its place of action 
may require. When the subject is taken up again 
with particular regard to the amateur actor, other 
suggestions will be made. 



SECOND PART 



IN PARTICULAR 



In dealing with the play intended for amateur 
performance, a number of things must be taken into 
consideration at the very beginning. Some of these 
were touched on in the First Part, but they will be 
mentioned again as the need arises, because some 
emphasis is necessary. 

The first thing to remember is the acting power 
of an average amateur cast. I said "average." 
Amateur talent ranges all the way from the awkward 
beginner without one glimmer of histrionic impulse 
to the experienced player in many public perform- 
ances who is really ready to take the next step to 
the professional stage, as many of them have done. 
Some amateur clubs, especially those in large cities, 
are well-organized, have kept together for a number 
of seasons, and pay experienced directors. In fact, 
practically none of the more pretentious perform- 
ances by amateurs in New York are given without the 
assistance of the professional director who becomes 
also the coach for the less talented performers. 

In the smaller cities and towns, too, there are 
some dramatic clubs which, with amateur direction 
as well as amateur talent, have achieved considerable 
skill through constant work and careful study. 

But the publisher must cater to the rank and file, 
and the larger part of his clientele is the ordinary 
amateur who likes to put on plays and act in them. 
27 



28 DO'S AND DONT'S 

As these plaj^s must be made amusing and interesting 
for the audiences who come to see them and often 
pay out perfectly good money to do so, the general 
lack of real acting experience, except in a few cases, 
must be accepted and considered. 

Another consideration, aside from acting expe- 
rience, is the financial end. Amateurs are not, like 
the professional manager, investing money in their 
own business enterprises. If much money must be 
spent it comes out of the pockets of the players 
themselves. Most performances are given for 
charity, or benefits, or for some such purpose, since 
the actor is not paid. Therefore expenses must be 
met from the proceeds. It is not good business to 
have the expenses so high that the net proceeds 
amount to little or nothing. 

For that reason, expense must be taken into ac- 
count by the pla} r wright in preparing his story. Do 
not call for elaborate structures requiring special 
building, such as grand staircases, overhanging bal- 
conies, trap-doors, and kindred accessories. On the 
other hand, if you are familiar with stage possibili- 
ties you can often suggest ways and means to "fake." 
Some years ago, when the Irish Players first came 
to the States, a great deal of praise was earned by 
the effectiveness of some of their simplest sets. As 
an instance, the sole furniture in "The Rising of the 
Moon" was a barrel, with a "Reward" placard tacked 
to it. The rest of the stage was hidden in mysterious 
darkness. One strong light fell from the flies, repre- 
senting moonlight. This struck the barrel and what- 
ever figures came under its rays. The effect was of 
a lonely wharf on the bank of the river : Our imagi- 
nations had been kindled to make us believe it. 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 29 

You recall in the First Part I said if you were inex- 
perienced it was best to be general in your stage direc- 
tions. That means that you had best not try to use 
the technical and abbreviated directions which appear 
in the professional manuscript. Y r ou can describe the 
room as you have visualized it, saying "At the back," 
or "In the rear," or "To the right," always remem- 
bering it is the actor's right you mean. If your scene 
has only one door or exit, after you have told us 
where this is, you need only say : "Harold exits," or 
"David enters." 

Describe your people as you want them to look. 
Tell us just what you want them to do, as well as what 
they must say. If you will always keep at your elbow 
for consultation a plot diagram of your stage, with 
the doors and furniture arranged as you wish, this 
matter of setting down the "business" will be simpler. 
The stage director will need it as his "prompt-book." 

Do not include instructions which cannot be fol- 
lowed. I remember reading a manuscript recently in 
which the business instruction read: "Having fin- 
ished washing the dishes, Ruth enters." Neither 
before nor after her entrance was anything said about 
dishes, so the audience did not receive a hint as to 
what she was doing, nor was it important. How 
could she look as if she had finished the dishes when 
we never knew she was cleaning them? 

Do not use such abbreviations as "R 3" or "L 1." 
These expressions date back to the days when scenery 
was shoved on to the stage in grooves. The ab- 
breviations mark definite positions well recognized 
by the professional player, but of no use to the ama- 
teur. 



30 DO'S AND DON'T'S 

Business directions are always written in the pres- 
ent tense. 

II 

Next we take up the story. The selection is not 
as wide as for the professional stage, though there is 
no fixed rule about it. And many of the restrictions 
mentioned here hold for Broadway as well. 

Let me say at once that though this manual is 
dealing with plays for publication as contrasted with 
those for the big theatres, it must be clearly under- 
stood that the play meant solely for publication, to 
be read and not acted, the so-called "closet-drama," 
is not being considered at any point. The plays 
under discussion in this manual are seeking a publisher 
and through him, the actor, whether professional or 
amateur. Though published, they are plays to be 
acted. With that fact settled, there need be no mis- 
understanding. 

In writing for publication, it should be remembered 
that the publisher hopes to keep on selling his plays 
for years. Anything of ephemeral interest is natur- 
ally not to be thought of. Questions of the moment, 
passing fads, entirely local issues cannot be used. 
Nor should political nor religious controversies be 
brought in. That does not mean that you must not 
write a play which has a politician or a minister as 
characters, if there is humor or general interest in the 
plot. But it must not be partisan nor controversial 
in any way, or such as to give offense to those of 
contrary opinions. 

Do not use depressing themes, sickness, degeneracy, 
immorality. Write of pleasant things, exciting 
things ; you may even touch on pathetic tilings. But 
you must remember that most of the people who get 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 31 

up amateur theatricals are young people ; if they 
should happen to want to play Maeterlinck's "Death 
of Tintagile," which I very much doubt, they will 
go straight to Maeterlinck. It will not do you any 
good to try to write something similar. 

Costume plays are not much in demand by ama- 
teurs. An occasional Bible story for some church 
affair, an historical play for some school, when scenery 
and costumes are "faked" or home-made; these are 
about all. Costumes are expensive to rent, and few 
amateurs care to undertake it. 

Do not select a story which will require a big "star" 
part. Not only are few amateurs capable of carry- 
ing a play, as is often the responsibility of the star, 
but it does not allow of sufficient importance being 
given to the other players. Amateurs like plays in 
which most of the actors are important, so that all 
may have something to do. This is one reason why 
many of the biggest New York successes would be 
absolutely hopeless for amateur companies. There 
is nearly always a star part entailing great strain and 
nervous reactions for one actor, and many of the 
minor characters are too minor to interest amateurs. 
Between ourselves, they do not interest professionals ; 
but they are paid for it. And the butcher's bills must 
be met. 

It should be obvious from the foregoing that stories 
must be avoided whose portrayal puts too great a 
strain on the actor's qualifications. 

The chief drawback with the amateur is his self- 
consciousness, not only before an audience but even 
at rehearsal. It is easier for him to lose some of this 
attitude, or even make capital of it, in the plays 
along comedy lines, than in a serious effort. There- 



32 DO'S AND DONT'S 

fore comedies and farces are always in demand. If 
plays are of the comedy-drama variety, that is, those 
with serious portions, these points should be of short 
duration. They can be serious, they should not be 
tragic, and the "happy ending" is much the best for 
all plays. 

Emotional or "big acting" scenes should be very 
few. My own experience as spectator at amateur 
performances would cause me to say, there should be 
none. But as there are clubs which have among their 
members the occasional amateur of ability, use the 
emotional scene if you must, but sparingly, I beg of 
you. And do not let it be a scene of such importance 
that the play stands or falls by it. 

The same holds with love scenes. Unless the play 
is being given on a real stage with all the distance 
and illusion of footlights, grease paint and a dark- 
ened auditorium, the amusement of an audience com- 
posed of admiring relatives and friends at such a 
scene is apt to be both audible and disconcerting, 
even if the players themselves have entirely overcome 
their self-consciousness. So I would suggest that the 
love scenes, if necessary, and unless farcical in inten- 
tion, be of the merest touch-and-go variety. 

Ill 

You divided your story into acts and sequences. 
Here we meet with another restriction. You will 
notice, by the way, that these various restrictions and 
limitations are apt to make writing for amateurs a 
rather exacting task. Though somewhat different, it 
is not easier than work for the professional theatre. 
The exception might be in the greater demand for 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 33 

shorter plays and material. It sometimes takes a 
few days' less work; that is all. 

To change a stage-setting between the acts takes 
time. In amateur theatricals it takes a good deal of 
time. Therefore, one setting throughout the play is 
best. There should never be more than two and both 
should be simple. Do not have a change of scenery 
during an act. It is done professionally, where stage- 
hands are rehearsed and used to working quickly. 
But it is not done often. Never is the word for the 
amateur. If a change of costume is demanded for any 
player during an act, see to it that there is enough 
business and dialogue to give him or her time to make 
the change. Amateurs are not as expert in making 
rapid changes in clothing as are professional actors. 
And even professionals must have time. 

For preference, choose for your subject comedy 
rather than pathos, humor rather than serious emo- 
tion, joy rather than sorrow. 

IV 

Another point which attracts the amateur looking 
for material is the cast of characters. How many, 
and of what variety? As a general rule, it has been 
found that the balanced cast appeals most: Four 
men, four women, and so on. No one knows why, 
unless in small coteries they like to flock in couples. 
Whenever there is an excess of one sex over the other, 
it should be feminine. Undoubtedly, there are more 
women and girls who enjoy dressing up and acting 
than there are men. A play with more men than 
women has hardly a chance ; the exceptions might be 
in the case of some male college, or similar outfit, in 
which men play feminine parts. But as these vehicles 



34 DO'S AND DON'T'S 

are often written by the boys themselves, the market 
is not great. 

So much for numbers. 

In type, the preference should be for youthful char- 
acters. If older types enter the play, they should 
not be of too eccentric a variety, as the average young 
amateur is hardly equal to the impersonation. Be- 
sides, character make-up requires practice and skill. 
Unless an expert is engaged to make up the faces of 
the cast, as sometimes happens, the result is apt to 
be bad. In the case of male characters, wigs and 
beards help. With women, oddities in clothes and 
hair-dressing make for characterization. If the play 
is comedy, these effects should not be difficult. But 
the use of grease paint for lines and shadows on the 
face, in unaccustomed hands, is apt to be a messy and 
spotty job. Of course, some clubs or communities are 
able to call on more mature players. So there is no 
actual insistence on an entire cast of juvenile roles. 

The characters should be as true to ordinary life as 
possible ; not one amateur in a thousand could give 
an even passable performance of "Hyde" in "Dr. 
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," or of "Hedda" in "Hedda 
Gabler." Such work should not be expected of them 
by the writer for the amateur stage. 



I said, in the First Part, that if the plan was clear 
and the characters of distinct individuality in your 
own mind, the writing of the dialogue was the easiest 
part of a difficult job. Perhaps I would better have 
said: The least difficult part of a never-easy job. 

The dialogue in a play for amateurs must share 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 35 

with the professional play a number of qualities. In 
addition, there are the usual restrictions. 

It must be as natural as possible, without being 
rambling, prosy or incoherent. Though colloquial, 
it must get us somewhere. It must not be ranting, 
or didactic, or stilted. You are not writing a com- 
position, but a play with lines to be spoken aloud. 

If a character is of a pedantic type, the stilted lines 
are all right for him; they become a part of charac- 
terization. I am referring to the dialogue as a whole. 

The sentences should be capable of easy rendering 
aloud. They must not be too long or involved, unless 
your obscurity is intentional at some point of the 
play. 

The words should always be such as the tongue 
takes easily. Unwieldy words are as bad as unwieldy 
sentences. 

Remember the action is more important than the 
talk, and, however witty or interesting it may be, do 
not let the dialogue halt the action. 

Lengthy speeches are especially out of place in the 
amateur play. Even in the professional play they re- 
quire skillful handling to avoid being tiresome. It is 
usually possible to break up a speech which threatens 
to be too long, by interruptions from others of 
"business," or brief remarks, and so on. But a long 
speech in which a player takes the center of the stage 
and talks while the. others stand about and listen had 
best be let severely alone. 

Use slang if it helps a characterization, but in 
moderation. It is a thing very easy to overdo. It 
seems hardly necessary to caution against vulgarity 
or profanity. They are absolutely not to be thought 
of. 



36 DO'S AND DON'T'S 

Remember that your dialogue is not a series of 
questions and answers, after the fashion of the school 
reader or the recitation book. That is not a play 
and was never meant to be. 

Do not introduce entirely irrelevant discussions 
with no bearing on the plot, nor jokes nor puns which 
do not concern us. Puns are bad at any stage ; that 
is, for the legitimate play. Later we will speak of 
the side-branches, where puns and irrelevant jokes 
have their place. 

At every stage of your dialogue writing, remember 
that it is carrying forward the plot. Though seem- 
ingly spontaneous, you are carefully planning it with 
that one purpose in view. 

It has been said there is a distinct preference for 
comedy. This does not mean that every line spoken 
must be comic, but that the action is of a comedy or 
gay order. Nevertheless, since there is an occasional 
touch of pathos, or even drama, allowable in the 
play for amateurs, a few words will dispose of two 
effects which must not be permitted to creep in. If 
your story has been planned properly these effects 
should not occur, because you have already been 
warned against them. But sometimes while writing, 
the temptation may be strong, so again the warning 
is given. 

Do not insert anywhere in the play a scene of ex- 
treme emotional intensity. Not one amateur in hun- 
dreds could manage it. The effect, in my experience, 
is usually to produce laughter rather than thrills or 
tears. The amateur cannot use such plays, nor is 
the publisher looking for them. He may, in some 
exceptional cases, publish a few in a whole catalogue 
in which an occasional such scene occurs, because he 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 37 

must cater to all of the public, and there are amateur 
players here and there who are equal to the task and 
are glad of an opportunity to display their talents. 

The other forbidden effect is much more positive in 
its inhibition. Scenes of passion are to be strictly 
avoided. The reasons are too obvious to require 
explanation. 

Your play may require dialect. Learn something 
about the kind you are going to use. Be sparing 
of dialect parts until you have acquired some skill in 
writing and characterization. 

VI 

Now for the "soliloquy" and "aside." In former 
days these were continually used. There is no space 
here to go into the reasons. In the modern drama, 
they are used either not at all, or in a degree so slight 
as hardly to be recognized as the same thing. 

In the old days, the "aside" was a remark addressed 
either directly to the audience as in comedy, or to the 
empty air ; it was a remark not meant to be heard by 
the other characters, whose presence was thus entirely 
ignored. Today, one character may address a remark 
to another which is not meant to be overheard by 
others present on the stage. This speech, in the play 
manuscript, would be prefaced thus: "John (aside 
to Tom)," and the remark would follow. 

The nearest approach to the old-fashioned "aside" 
would be some audible exclamation such as any ordi- 
nary person might speak aloud under stress. If you 
or I in our own homes were faced with some sudden 
catastrophe at a time when thought was difficult, we 
would be quite likely to say aloud : "What am I going 
to do !" or something similar, though utterly alone at 



38 DO'S AND DONT'S 

the moment. If a thing is natural to the occasion, in 
real life, it can be used in a play. 

A soliloquy is longer. It is the sort of thing in- 
jected into the older plays to let us know what 
thoughts were passing through the speaker's mind. 
Today we prefer to see the actor think, through the 
medium of his expression and movements. Hamlet's 
soliloquy is a case in point. Here is a character fol- 
lowing a train of thought through a long speech. It 
proves one reason why Shakespeare's form is not a 
good model for the writer of modern plays. His plot- 
building and presentation are supreme; he was an 
actor, of and in the theatre. Had not the soliloquy 
been a fashion of his day and many days thereafter, 
make no doubt that he would have written his master- 
pieces without it. 

VII 

Plays are divided into two great classes : Tragedy 
and Comedy. There all real classification ends. The 
divisions are of the haziest variety. One class runs 
into another in a way defying the pigeon-hole. At 
one end would be pure tragedy such as the "Medea" 
of Euripides; at the other end would be pure farce. 
Pure tragedy rarely gets into the modern play. When 
it does it is usually of foreign importation. 

We will therefore have to attempt another division : 
Serious and Humorous. This is better, but it still 
does not get us very far, for the serious plays have 
comedy elements and happy endings, while the humor- 
ous plays often have pathetic scenes. 

In the serious section, however, we can include 
tragedy, drama, and melodrama. In the humorous 
section, comedy and farce. Then there are the 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 39 

hybrids : Comedy-drama, farce-comedy, tragi-comedy 
(whatever that is), and so on. 

Also we have the offshoots of the humorous ele- 
ments: Musical comedy, vaudeville, minstrel shows, 
with monologues, skits, slap-stick, and all the rest. 

Nor must we forget the one-act play, the chief 
standby of the amateur, which may belong in any of 
the foregoing classifications. Let us see what we can 
do with them. 

We can dismiss quickly the tragic section as en- 
tirely unsuited to the amateur performer, and there- 
fore of no use to the publisher of such plays. 

With a few exceptions we could say almost the 
same of drama, using the word in its narrow sense 
rather than its larger interpretation ; for "drama" is 
the word applied to the whole subject of compositions 
meant to be acted. In its more limited meaning play- 
wrights and actors use it to classify the play of se- 
rious purpose, of mental conflict, of problems, or 
emotional crises. Since it may have a happy ending 
and frequent comedy touches, it is not tragedy. But 
it is not the class of play the wise amateur chooses for 
an entertainment. 

Melodrama may be defined best by lifting the 
definition from the dictionary; it covers the subject: 
It is "a drama with a romantic story or plot and 
startling situations and incidents." Also, most melo- 
dramas have a great deal of the comedy element, 
which is knit closely into the story. It usually in- 
volves crime of some sort, with a villain, and often a 
"villainess," as part of the ingredients. 

There are several reasons why it must be put in 
the undesirable column. It is, as a rule, an expensive 
type of play to produce, because of changes in 



40 DO'S AND DONT'S 

scenery, lighting effects, and length. A melodrama 
usually runs five acts, seldom less than four. The 
cast generally runs to more men than women. Last, 
it requires skill to keep it within the limits of plausi- 
bility, both in regard to the writing and the acting. 
Melodrama has a strange affinity for farce; so much 
so, that the term "melodramatic" contains within it 
something of bombast and pretense. Bombast and 
pretension can be excellent farce material at times. 
So it will be seen while drama and melodrama can 
be used by amateurs, they rarely are. 

VIII 

A comedy is a play of life's less strenuous moods. 
Though it may contain touches of pathos, the laugh is 
never far from the tear. It is, perhaps, more nearly 
human and "every-day" that any other class. It has 
its gay moments, and its serious ones ; the fun may 
range all the way from the line or situation eliciting 
the quiet chuckle to those provoking the roar of 
laughter. It always ends happily. 

The comedy-drama is a combination of the fore- 
going with the more complex situations of drama. 

Needless to say comedy is a frequent choice of the 
amateur looking for material, and he gets both 
profit and enjoyment from it. 

When we come to farce we take up a play-form dif- 
ficult both to write and to act. Yet since it is a form 
popular with amateur players, it is well worth study 
and work. Though difficult to act, it has certain ad- 
vantages for the player. The frequent absurdity of 
lines and situations helps to gloss over much awkward- 
ness, and helps eliminate that bete-noire of the 
amateur, self-consciousness. On the other hand, its 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 41 

acting difficulties lie in the necessity for frequent and 
careful rehearsing and the need for perfect team- 
work, with quick action, no waits, no delay in taking 
up cues, no slackening in the apparent spontaneity of 
the whole. 

Farce is distinguished from comedy in that it is 
dominated by its situations rather than its charac- 
ters. In true farce, the people are all more or less 
the victims of circumstances. Misunderstandings are 
rife throughout, and everybody is most uncomfortable 
and unhappy. Why is it funny, then? Because the 
situations are exaggerated, the circumstances gro- 
tesque and absurd. Nothing really tragic is involved, 
and at the end everybody is perfectly innocent and 
happy again. Farce, more than any other play-form, 
follows closely all of the three Unities. 

IX 

With the one-act play, we run the entire gamut of 
the drama. It can be anything from tragedy to 
farce. Therefore the same restrictions hold as in the 
longer play, when w r riting for the amateur. 

As the acting-time of this form is of short duration, 
the story must be one which can be clearly told in 
that time. It must begin at once, require little ex- 
position, get to its climax quickly and terminate at 
just the right point. Naturally the story cannot be 
one requiring gradual development. The fewer char- 
acters you use the better. A frequent number for the 
one-act play is two persons. But in the play for 
amateurs it is not necessary to insist on the small cast 
for reasons of expense, as would be the case when each 
person must receive a salary. 



42 DO'S AND DONT'S 

X 

Musical comedy manuscripts, unless written by au- 
thors who are thoroughly familiar with amateur pro- 
ducing requirements and limitations, are foredoomed 
to rejection. 

The average writer pictures a musical comedy as 
rich in scenic and costume investiture, and devises a 
play which calls for lavish staging. This is all right 
for the professional manager, who may spend thou- 
sands of dollars in producing his show. But for 
amateurs the musical comedy, as well as the non- 
musical play, must be the kind that can be staged with 
utmost economy as to scenery and costumes. 

Moreover, a show that requires a special musical 
score is very costly to publish and the market for 
it is relatively small. A publisher is not likely to 
invest heavily in a book that promises to be a 
slow seller, no matter how excellent the play itself 
may be. 

If you are determined to write a musical comedy 
for amateurs, your best course is to place it in a con- 
ventional scene with everyday costumes, and make the 
story complete without the musical numbers, suggest- 
ing merely the types of songs to be interpolated that 
will be adequate and suited to the story. 

XI 

The minstrel show is an exceedingly popular form 
of amateur entertainment. In the ordinary sense, 
however, minstrel shows are not "written," they are 
put together. 

The usual minstrel show is divided into three parts ; 
a first-part, made up of chorus and end-men, with 
songs, jokes, and cross-fire dialogue; an olio, which 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 43 

is something akin to a short vaudeville show, recita- 
tions, skits, tricks, specialties of various kinds, what- 
ever local talent affords; and an afterpiece, which is 
usually a rollicking farce, as funny and quick-moving 
as possible. 

All that a publisher would be likely to be interested 
in, therefore, would be afterpieces, some brisk skits, 
and perhaps a collection of good cross-fire dialogue 
for the end-men, jokes, and "gags." If any playlets 
are used in the olio, they are farces, and need not 
have been especially written for minstrel shows. 

In a successful minstrel show the jokes and dialogue 
must be up to the minute. Jokes taken from books 
and papers run the risk of being stale. Therefore, a 
collection of jokes and cross-fire dialogue should be 
as original as the writer can make it. "Cross-fire," 
it may be stated, is the dialogue between interlocutor 
and end-men. 

The best chance for the writer is to devote himself 
to the afterpiece, the skits and farces, suggesting 
their suitability for minstrel shows. Most of these 
afterpieces are blackface, and are therefore written 
in "coon" dialect, as known to the stage. 

The skits are very short, made-up of quick ques- 
tion-and-answer dialogue, and are for two people. 
These usually are a "straight" part, or "feeder," and 
a comedian. 

XII 

In touching on vaudeville at this point, it may seem 
that we are wandering aside from the expressed inten- 
tion of dealing with the writer of plays for amateurs, 
since vaudeville is a professional milieu. But "there's 
a reason," or rather two — one for the amateur actor, 
and one for the author. 



44 DO'S AND DONT'S 

The amateur often likes the type of "act" used in 
vaudeville, especially in minstrel shows, and fits it to 
his own uses very well. The author, finding writing 
for professional vaudeville, under the present system 
of leasing and selling "acts," most unsatisfactory, 
unless he has a reputation big enough to warrant his 
demanding his own terms, can still write such acts for 
a publisher. 

The popular type for amateurs is clean burlesque, 
or brisk and vivacious farce. It is short — say from 
fifteen to twenty minutes. It may have two or more 
characters. For amateurs the number is not so 
limited as in the "profession," as there is no ques- 
tion of salary involved. It is usually of a somewhat 
more sophisticated type than the one-act farce or 
comedy used at church or parlor entertainments. But, 
for amateurs especially, it must not step over the line 
into vulgarity, and the faintest hint of salacity kills 
it with the publisher. 

"Slap-stick" farce is of a rougher quality than 
the preceding, and is more suited to be played entire- 
ly by men. It is apt to be of a rough-and-tumble 
variety, and perhaps is not so easy a type for the 
amateur actor to carry off well. 

Monologues for vaudeville, and for similar places in 
amateur shows, are of two types. The more artistic 
arrangement is one in which the actor appears to be 
carrying on a conversation with an invisible listener, 
either over the telephone, or down a dumb-waiter, or 
the next room, or even right at hand. The second 
type is a favorite with the skilled monologist in vaude- 
ville, but is not so easy for the amateur. The speaker 
directly talks to the audience. He is not making a 
speech in the ordinary sense, but he is telling them 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 45 

things about himself or apparently anything which 
comes into his head. The fun depends to an enormous 
extent on his own personality and the intimacy he 
establishes with his audience. Beatrice Herf ord comes 
to mind as a fine example of the first type, and Will 
Rogers as a successful exponent of the second. 

The "recitation" is not properly a monologue, for 
the performer is not "talking" but "reading" or 
reciting selections. A good recitation is always popu- 
lar, and books of selected poems and other material 
are occasionally brought out by publishers. 

The "tab" or tabloid play is another form used in 
vaudeville. Its expense depends on its type. The 
tabloid drama is sometimes a condensed version of 
some longer play. Or it is a musical comedy con- 
densed to vaudeville length. In any case, the idea of 
the "tab" is compression and condensation. 

XIII 

All of this Second Part will show you that the 
writer of amateur material has a wide range, in spite 
of the restrictions and limitations enforced by the 
nature of his exponents. 

One of the best suggestions I can make to the be- 
ginner in this field is to send to any of the reputable 
publishers of such material for a catalogue. There 
is no surer way of discovering the type and scope of 
the plays wanted. The reading of the most success- 
ful plays along the chosen type will add immeasurably 
to the particular knowledge necessary. 

Remember that though the amateur may not be a 
Broadway actor as far as his histrionic abilities go, 
in many cases, especially in the larger cities, he 
knows something about plays. The publisher is not 



46 DO'S AND DONT'S 

going to hand him second-rate material with a view 
to fooling him. There is a difference between the 
professional and amateur play. But — you cannot 
write one unless you are able to write the other. 



THIRD PART 



AND LASTLY 



Suppose, now, for the sake of review, we run over 
a brief list of the things to do, and things not to do. 
Thus: 

DO 

1. Learn something about the theatre, the stage 
and acting. It is as necessary as familiarizing your- 
self with the mechanism of your car if you expect to 
drive it properly. 

2. Remember the usual lack of trained acting 
ability and experience in the average amateur per- 
former. Keep story and characters within the range 
of his powers. 

3. Remember that the story of your play must be 
of a single episode or plot. 

4. Be sure your story is capable of development 
in the play-form. Many a good story is spoiled by 
being told through the wrong medium : Fiction, when 
it should have been a play; a play, when it needed 
the slower development of fiction. 

5. Remember that your story must have "action." 
Keep it moving forward steadily. 

6. Remember, also, that it must entail some form 
of conflict, mental, moral, or physical, serious or 
humorous. 

7. Learn to visualize your play as being acted. 
"See" its people and setting. 

47 



48 DO'S AND DON'T'S 

8. Use characters suitable to the story and the ac- 
tion. They should be as alive to you as people you 
have met. 

9. Be careful of the names you give your charac- 
ters. "Mary" is dignified ; "Mollie" is a coquette. 

10. Arrange for the sequence of the episodes of 
the play. These sequences must develop naturally 
and logically. 

11. Decide at which point of your story the actual 
play is to begin. 

12. Select the right points of your plot for visible 
presentation. 

13. Make your conclusion logical. 

14. Write business instructions clearly and care- 
fully. 

15. Always write business in the present tense. 

16. Choose comedy in preference to serious ma- 
terial. 

17. Use more women than men, or else an evenly 
balanced cast ; the exceptions would be minstrel shows 
and similar performances. 

18. Use youthful characters as much as possible. 

19. Write natural, colloquial dialogue. 

20. Write sentences which are easy to speak 
aloud. 

21. Use slang in moderation, and only when nec- 
essary for characterization. 

22. Be sure that the dialogue of each person in 
the play is characteristic of that person. 

23. Tie up all loose ends. 

You see, there are twenty-three Do's, which, to- 
gether with the first two parts of this manual, ought 
to be of some little constructive assistance. 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 49 

II 

Now, let us try some of things which are inadvisable 
or even prohibited in the play for the amateur. 

DON'T 

1. Use stories so simple that they are over before 
they begin. 

2. Use sub-plots. They not only interrupt the 
action of the real plot, but are out of date. "It isn't 
being done." 

S. Use characters too subtle and complex for the 
average amateur to portray ; nor very unusual types 
of people. 

4. Use "descriptive nomenclature." "Mr. Money- 
bags" is passe, and "I. M. Rich" belongs to burlesque 
and the joke-book. 

5. Start to write your play without some sort of 
pre-arranged plan. 

6. Put anything into your play manuscript which 
cannot be shown by the actors or the stage-setting, 
except such matters as may legitimately appear on the 
printed program of the play, when produced. 

7. Have a surprise finish out of keeping with the 
plot and its development, just for the sake of a 
"punch." It is a trick which will defeat its own ends. 

8. Write plays involving expensive productions. 
' The usual amateur company is looking for amuse- 
ment, not debts. 

9. Give your characters business directions hu- 
manly impossible to follow. 

10. Write plays around passing fads, partisan 
politics, religious discussions, or purely local issues. 

11. Use depressing themes, sickness, decadence, 
immorality. 



50 DO'S AND DONT'S 

12. Write "star" parts or long plays with only 
one actor of importance. With amateurs, the whole 
outfit is important. 

13. Use big emotional scenes, lengthy or pas- 
sionate love-scenes. 

14. Require more than two sets of scenery. One 
is best. 

15. Indicate any rapid change of scenery during 
one act. 

16. Provide for any change of costume during an 
act without writing enough dialogue and business to 
give time for the change to be made. 

17. Use characters requiring difficult make-up. 

18. Write didactic or "high-flown" speeches for 
every-day people. Nobody talks that way, not even 
bad actors. 

19. Use unwieldy words or sentences. They trip 
up the unwary tongue and cause confusion. 

20. Give a character speeches too long to be 
rendered easily and naturally. 

21. Make use of profanity or vulgarity in any 
form, in any part of the play, in any kind of a play. 

22. Introduce irrelevant jokes or discussions into 
legitimate plays. 

23. Use soliloquies or asides. They are distinctly 
back numbers in modern play-writing. 

24. Let your characters talk exactly alike. Very 
few people do, unless they are imitators. 

25. Write of ancient times or exotic lands, re- 
quiring elaborate special costumes. 

26. Take your plot from any book, story, play 
or movie. 

27. Leave us at the end asking what it all means. 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 51 

III 

When you have digested the first two parts, and 
the preceding Do's and Don't's, and all of the other 
things you ought to read and study and write before 
your play is ready for its final transcript, we can 
come to the condition of the manuscript you send to 
the publisher. 

IV 

There are a few slight differences in the prepara- 
tion of a play MS. intended to be published, and one 
meant for the professional stage. The former has 
to reach the printer in such shape that he can readily 
set it up in type. The latter goes into the hands 
of a stage-director who uses it as a prompt-book. 
Also, "parts" are copied from it by stenographers 
who specialize in that kind of work. Therefore, cer- 
tain things must stand out more clearly than either 
the printer or the amateur finds necessary. 

There are several matters which are identical in 
both, and those we will take up first. 

Use the typewriter. If you are going to do much 
writing, it will pay you in the end to rent a machine 
and learn to use it. In the larger cities there are 
always to be found typists who will copy the material 
for you. If your MS. is written clearly and in just 
the right form, your typist should be instructed to 
copy the form exactly. If a typewriter is absolutely 
unavailable, then use the clearest longhand of which 
you are capable. Publishers are too busy to wade 
through badly written, slovenly manuscripts. 

Write on only one side of the paper. Everyone 
ought to know that by this time, but one occasionally 
runs across the exception who never heard it before. 



52 DO'S AND DONT'S 

Use good paper. The sort of paper known as 
onion-skin is not permissible in MSS., as it is par- 
tially transparent. Flimsy paper is easily torn. The 
best size for this purpose is 8% by 11, or there- 
abouts. 

Use black or very dark ink. If on the typewriter, 
use a new black record ribbon. 

Make carbon copies of your MS., but don't send 
one of the carbons to the publisher, unless you have 
used a good carbon paper which copies a clean, clear 
black. 

Leave a margin at the left side. Also, a narrower 
margin along the right edge is desirable. 

Number every page, at center top or upper right- 
hand corner. 

Put the name of the character speaking before 
every speech. The position of the name varies. In the 
longer and more important plays, it may be found 
written above the speech at the center of the page. 
This is the preferred position for the professional 
MS., as it sets off the speech and the character speak- 
ing it, making it easier for both director and typist 
to find. In shorter plays and "acts," it may be 
placed at the left and beginning of each speech. If 
typed, the name is written all in capitals. If hand- 
written, underscore it conspicuously. 

Every play must be prefaced by a complete list of 
characters. Every character appearing, from the 
most important to the least, must find place in this 
list. 

Follow this with an act and scene synopsis. That 
is, give time and place of each act. 

Begin each act with a description of the setting 
of that act, the furniture and all accessories, together 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 53 

with the general impression to be conveyed by the 
surroundings. 

Punctuate and capitalize properly. Use the dic- 
tionary freely for spelling. 

See that your name and address are given in full 
on the first page of the MS. Also, some writers put 
the title of the play on every single page of the MS., 
in the upper right-hand corner. This avoids loss if 
the pages happen to become separated. 

Never roll a manuscript. To do so screams aloud 
your complete innocence of any experience what- 
soever. Send it flat. If it is a short skit of only a 
few pages it can be sent folded, in a long envelope. 
If it is a long play, fasten it together and send it 
unfolded, properly wrapped against damage in 
transit. 

The MS. may be sent by mail or express. See that 
it is fully prepaid. Also, provide for its return, either 
by enclosing stamps or having it sent to you by ex- 
press collect. If a long manuscript, express is cheaper, 
though a little slower. Manuscripts must be sent 
sealed as first-class mail. 

All of the foregoing are perfectly good rules to be 
followed when writing for either publisher or man- 
ager. We come now to a few variations, points which 
the publisher prefers for his own particular case. 



The amateur not being informed as to the jargon 
and vernacular of the theatre, is not apt to understand 
or properly visualize a script filled with abbreviations 
and other professional short-cuts. Nor do they look 
well in the printed play-book. Therefore, write out 
in full your stage directions, and all names wherever 



54 DO'S AND DONT'S 



JED. Mis' Chase' is expectin* a visitor today. 

CHRIS ( indifferently, looking at his paper) . Yea so I've been toltfi 
Someone sp»ke of it as I was coming down the street. 

JED. Do you remember Caselda? 

CHRIS ( looking up ). Perfectly. She was a smart kid. ( Looking back 
at his paper again. ) Used to see her around a lot before she went away. 
HEHRY enters from street dcor . 

CHRIS ( having turned at sound of bell ) . Hello, Henry. 

HEMRY... Kornin 1 , Mr. Bellows. Just been hearin* about Mis' Chase's 
old maid niece comin' to Kipp's Falls. Gosh a'mighty — what do we want 
another one here for? 

JED. We've sure got a. lot of old hens 'round this place. 

HEJIRY. Pore old things, I'm kinder sorry for 'em. And now. another 
one. How old is. she?, 

CHRIS ( folding up his paper, mentally calculating ) . Oh, 'bout 
forty. I used to see her around a lot. 

HEKRY. Fortyl Good LordJ ( Looking out. ) ScatJ. Here comes the 
bunch? 

( A murmur outside. ) 

The door opens and MIRANDA enters, followed by SARAH. Each carries 
a package. 

MIRAlODAi Where's Mis' Chase? I brought over my new counterpane 
for the spare bed. I thought she'd need it. 

SARAH. Visitors always need extra things. 

The bell tinkles again with ABBY'S entrance, followed at once toy 
E1MTA.. Both carry packages. 

ABBY ( smirking and simpering at sight of the men ) . Oh, good norn»} 
ing, Mr. Bellows. 

CHRIS ( shortly ). Good morning. 

ABBY. Howdy, Henry. 

HENRY ( negligently ). Howdy. ( EMLiA simply smiles at both and goeS i 
A Specimen Page of Manuscript Typed for Printing 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 55 

they appear. Of course, the instruction to write all 
names out in full has no reference to some especially 
long name given as it appears in the program. It 
is the custom to head the speech of each character 
with the name most frequently used for that charac- 
ter by the rest of the cast. For instance, a man 
might be listed as "John Wellington Smith, Jr.," in 
the cast of characters. His speeches could be headed 
by either "John" or "Smith." But do not head his 
speeches "J. W. S." 

State everything as clearly as possible in the stage 
descriptions and directions. If you have in mind a 
particular inflection or "reading" for some phrase 
or speech, describe just the impression you wish that 
speech to make. If you have visualized your play in 
detail, you will want it acted as you saw it. Put into 
your script all you saw in your mind's eye. It is most 
helpful to the players and their director ; it will also 
save a deal of editing by the publisher. 

If you will inform yourself of these matters by 
reading printed plays, you will be able to submit a 
manuscript requiring a minimum of editing. Do not 
forget if a publisher has to pay an editor to do a lot 
to your script, it is likely to affect your own check. 
And your play will have to be worthwhile to be turnecf 
over to the editor at all. 

Go over all exits and entrances of characters to 
make sure you have not blundered. If not careful, 
you may send a character off through a door at right, 
and then indicate in your MS. his immediate return 
from left. Get people out of the way; do not jumble 
them up helter-skelter in a doorway. Of course, a 
good director can straighten such blunders out, but, 
why make them? With amateurs, it is not always pos- 



56 DO'S AND DONT'S 

sible to secure the services of a good director, and they 
must do the best they can with your instructions. 

Another important point to be noted in the play 
intended for the printer which is slightly different 
from the professional MS. : Type with double spacing 
throughout. This is to leave room for the editor to 
make notes for the printer, specifying type sizes and 
styles and other matters which are needed even in the 
best of manuscripts. 

"Business" is always set off in some way from the 
dialogue. In a professional MS. this is done invari- 
ably by indenting it and putting it on a separate line. 
In a printed play this is not always done. But the 
business is underlined, preferably in red, and set off 
by parentheses. When it appears in print, the under- 
lined words are in italics and in parentheses. To 
print a MS. as the professional types it would make 
too large a book for amateur purposes. 

One more distinguishing point which must be re- 
membered. Always include a brief synopsis of your 
story. This is not only an aid to the publisher's 
reader, but if the play is accepted, is used for adver- 
tising purposes. In some instances it is also included 
in the printed play-book as an aid to the amateur 
selecting a play. 

VI 

I have mentioned in several places the length of 
time a play can run. You may have wondered how 
this can be judged. In general, we calculate the 
acting-time of any play, when properly typed, at 
about a minute to a page. That can only be a rough 
estimate, of course; but if a manuscript is about 
fifteen pages long it will in all probability run either 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 57 

a little less or a trifle longer than fifteen minutes. 
In the theatre, we never count the number of words 
in a script for the quite obvious reason that many of 
the words are used in lengthy descriptions meant only 
for the director and have no effect on the acting-time 
at all. But in taking the minute-a-page average, long 
speeches on one page will balance long descriptions 
on another, and so on. 

It would seem absurdly unnecessary to mention the 
need for some sort of education in the use of lan- 
guage. But those of us who have any access to the 
manuscripts of the novice know how often a play — 
one of literature's most difficult forms — has been at- 
tempted by someone w T ith not enough education to 
w T rite a decent letter. Why not take the trouble to 
learn good English? If you are an adult with any 
kind of intelligence, a little application will work 
wonders. 

Also, a number of people to whom English is not 
a native language, attempt to write in it. It is often 
difficult for the average newcomer in our tongue who 
considers himself fluent, to realize that his carefully 
framed English, in the mouths of supposedly native 
American characters, sounds exotic and unfamiliar 
to those of us to whom the speech, slang and all, is 
second nature. Therefore, take the trouble to learn 
the language so that its colloquialisms as well as its 
vagaries are familiar to you, before attempting a play 
of purely American people on purely American topics. 

VII 

I would like to touch briefly on the matter of 
plagiarism. That means, literally, the appropriation 
of another's work given out as one's own. This is a 



58 DO'S AND D ON'T'S 

serious matter, and is apt to cause trouble for every- 
one concerned. It is often done quite innocently by 
someone ignorant of the impropriety. A novice reads 
a story ; without thinking about it as a fault, he de- 
cides the story would make a good play, and proceeds 
to write it. That is all very well for practice, but if 
anything is to be done with the play in print or before 
the public, two things must happen: The original 
author's name must be mentioned and his written per- 
mission obtained. Also, he will probably demand a 
share of the receipts. To ignore these facts is apt 
to bring one within the grasp of the law. Never send 
out a play unless it is your own original creation in 
all respects. 

VIII 

As has been said, this is only a brief manual on a 
subject requiring a large volume. To know the mat- 
ter more in detail, it will be necessary for you to refer 
to some of the more exhaustive books on this and kin- 
dred subjects. A short bibliography follows the list 
of definitions. Usually in the back of each of these 
reference books will be found mentioned other books. 

Also I have suggested the study of a play cata- 
logue, and the reading of popular printed plays. 

If I have impressed upon you the necessity for pre- 
liminary study and thought, and have convinced you 
that the work is difficult and success not to be lightly 
achieved, I have accomplished a little of what I started 
to do. If in addition you have found anything help- 
ful or suggestive of ways and means, another point 
has been gained. 

Be prepared to re-write and revise frequently and 
sometimes painfully. For the rest, you are now left 
to think it over. 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGH T 59 

IX 

TERMS WITH WHICH THE PLAYWRIGHT 
SHOULD BE FAMILIAR. 

Abbreviations — 

R. : A stage-direction used in play MSS., indicat- 
ing the right-hand side of the stage, from the actor's 
right as he faces the footlights. 

L. : The left side from the actor's left. 

C. : The center of the stage, or the immediate vi- 
cinity. 

R. C: A point to the right of this. 

Up stage : Toward the back, away from the foot- 
lights. 

Down stage : Near the footlights. 

Up R. C: A point toward the rear, and right of 
center. 

Off stage: The area just outside the visible part 
of the stage as disclosed when the curtain is up. 

X: Sometimes used to mean "goes" or "crosses"; 
for instance, "John X down L." 

Other abbreviations can be understood easily from 
the foregoing. 

"Act in One" : A vaudeville term used to designate 
anything performed at the front of the stage, before 
a curtain hung at about the "first entrance." 

Action: The "action" of a play is its forward 
moving succession of episodes. It should be always 
progressive. 

Asides: Lines or words spoken directly to the 
audience as distinguished from speeches directed to 
the other characters. 

Atmosphere: A term used to describe matters in 
the play which provide a feeling of reality, or of es- 



60 DO'S AND DON'T'S 

pecial localities. It may refer to scenery, or charac- 
ters, or dialogue. 

Business: The business of a play is what the ac- 
tors do or the manner in which they act or move 
about. Most of it is inserted in the proper places by 
the dramatist. 

Climax: The highest point of excitement or ten- 
sion in a play. As a general rule it occurs at or to- 
ward the end of next to the last act. 

Conditions Precedent, The : A term used by some 
writers to express those matters and conditions which 
precede the actual beginning of the play, knowledge 
of which is necessary to our understanding. These 
Conditions Precedent are usually developed as part of 
the Exposition. 

Cue: The last few words of an actor's speech 
which words are the signal for the next player to 
speak or act. Or it may be the stage-business which 
serves the same purpose. Also, property men and 
stage-hands are interested in cues, since they point 
the moments for various matters of interest to them. 
In typing "parts" for study, an actor's own speeches 
are given, but all that his part contains of the other 
speeches are the cues. 

Cyclorama: A rear drop that is hung in a curved 
floor line, not straight across the stage. It is used 
to give the illusion of great distance in outdoor 
scenes. 

Delayed Action: See Retardation of Action. 

Directions : See Stage Directions. 

Director: See Stage Director. 

Drop: A scenic curtain that can be rolled. 

Doubling: For one actor to play two different 
characters. 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 61 

Down stage: See Abbreviations. 

Ensemble: The general effect of the whole pro- 
duction. Also, "business" enacted by the whole cast 
of characters, or speeches spoken in unison by all of 
the people present on the stage at the time. 

Entrance: In a play manuscript, the appearance 
of a character on the stage. On the stage, the place 
at which he enters ; also, his entry. 

Exposition: The exposition is that part of the 
play which introduces the characters, their relation to 
each other and their connection with the plot. 

Extras: See Supernumerary. 

Flat: A piece of canvas scenery mounted on a 
wooden frame or stretcher. 

Flies : The region above the visible stage. 

Foots: Footlights. 

Front : On the audience's side of the footlights. 

Gridiron: The frame work over the stage from 
which the drops, borders and border lights are hung. 

Lines: The lines of a play are what the layman 
knows as the dialogue; that is, the speeches of the 
players. 

Low-comedy: The term is applied to rough or 
boisterous fun. 

Monologues: Correctly used, as a form of enter- 
tainment by a single performer, the monologue has a 
distinct place. In a play, however, the term is some- 
times used instead of soliloquy, or, derisively, of a 
play in which only one player is permitted to do any- 
thing of importance. 

Motive: The main idea or thesis dominating the 
whole. The argument you set forth to prove. 

MS. : A manuscript. 

MSS. : Plural of "MS." 



62 DO'S AND DON'T'S 

Off stage : See Abbreviations. 

Patter: A vaudeville term applied to rapid cross- 
fire talk between several comedians. Or it may mean 
brisk monologue material. 

Parts : The dialogue and business allotted to the 
different players, typed for easy study and used at 
rehearsal. Also, the term applied to the entire role, 
as : John Smith will play the part of "Henry." 

Planting: A term expressing the establishing of 
some certain fact necessary to our knowledge at a 
place in the play prior to its actual use as drama. 

Plot: The story, with its beginning, middle, and 
end. 

Properties : Anything used by the players or placed 
on the stage as a necessary part of the action, from 
the grand piano on which the heroine plays to the 
card the butler brings on. 

Props: May mean either properties, or the prop- 
erty man. 

Punch: A slang term hard to define. It refers to 
some quality in a play or act which attracts atten- 
tion and makes for success. 

Retardation of Action: An expression used in re- 
gard to the manner in which the action of a play is 
legitimately held back for suspense instead of allow- 
ing it to rush forward to a quick conclusion. 

Scenario: The working plan of a play. If com- 
plete, it maps out the plot, scene by scene and act 
by act. 

Scene: In a play MS., one of the sequences of the 
unfolding. Also, any division of a single act on 
which the curtain falls. On the stage, the appearance 
presented when the curtain is up is called the scene. 

Scene a faire: A term used by Eugene Scribe in 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 63 

reference to the scene the audience has a right to 
expect to see acted out. 

Script : The usual theatrical term for the play 
manuscript. 

Sequence: The following of one episode as a 
logical outcome of the episode preceding. 

Setting: The stage furnishings and scenery of any 
act taken as a whole. 

Situation: Any single episode or phase of the 
plot into which the characters have moved or been 
forced. 

Soliloquy : Long speeches rendered from an other- 
wise empty stage, as if the actor were thinking aloud. 

Speech: General term applied to the lines spoken 
by a player, from cue to cue. 

Stage directions : These include the "business" and 
also instructions for setting the stage. 

Stage director: The person who "stages" or di- 
rects the play at rehearsal. 

Stage manager: In small companies, especially 
amateur, the stage director and stage manager may 
be the same person. In large organizations, he is 
the man who attends to the setting of the stage, 
sees that acts are "called" in time for all performers 
to be in their places, and that all properties are at 
hand when needed. 

Subject: The story chosen to develop theme or 
motive. 

Sub-plot: Any plot which, without real relation- 
ship to the main plot, follows along with it. It is 
taboo in all good play-writing. 

Supernumerary: One who has a very minor part, 
and generally with no lines to speak. Supernume-r- 



64 DO'S AND DONT'S 

aries or "extras" are used as soldiers, in mob scenes, 
etc. 

Suspense: That quality in any form of writing 
which holds our interest because of our doubt of the 
outcome. 

Synopsis: A brief version of the play as a whole. 
Also used of the time and place of action, following 
the cast of characters on a play program. 

Theme: Generally used synonymously with motive. 

Unities, The: Referring to the laws of literature 
as set forth by Aristotle, known as the Unity of 
Time, of Place, and of Action. 

Up stage: See Abbreviations. 

Visualizing: That psychological quality in the 
writer which enables him to mentally see his play 
being acted; a very necessary quality for dramatic 
writing. 

Wings : That part of the stage beyond and behind 
the visible scenery, where actors wait for their cues. 



FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 65 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

"Play-making," William Archer. Small, Maynard & 

Co. 
"Dramatic Technique," George Pierce Baker. 
Houghton Mifflin Co. 
"Problems of the Playwright," Clayton Hamilton. 

Henry Holt & Co. 
"Writing and Selling a Play," Fanny Cannon. 

Henry Holt & Co. 
"Play Production in America," Arthur Edwin Krows. 

Henry Holt & Co. 
"Costumes and Scenery for Amateurs," Constance 

D'Arcy Mackay. Henry Holt & Co. 
"Writing for Vaudeville," Brett Page. Home Cor- 
respondence Schools. 
"How to Stage a Play," Harry Osborne. T. S. 

Denison & Co. 
"How to Stage a Minstrel Show," Jeff Branen & 

Frederick G. Johnson. T. S. Denison & Co. 



Gaselda Gomes Home 

BY 

Fanny Cannon 

A COMEDY in 3 acts; 5 males, 8 females. Time, 
2 hours. Scenes: 2 interiors. 

CHARACTERS. 

Caselda Brown From New York 

Amanda Chase Her Aunt 

Alma Bellows Afraid of the Black List 

Mrs. Bemus No Old Maid, Thank Heaven! 

Miranda Purcell One of the Old Maids 

Abby Snyder Another 

Sarah Stone Still Another 

Emma Nelson And Another 

Christopher Bellows A Prosperous Farmer 

Jed Hopkins The Postmaster 

Henry Perkins The Village "Catch" 

William Bemus A Farmer 

Jasper Elwood From New York 

This might be called the tragi-comedy of a small 
town. Alma, aged 25, with a "horrible example" of a 
town full of unmated women, accepts the only mar- 
riageable young man in the neighborhood for fear of 
being an old maid. But Caselda, an attractive and 
youthful-seeming "old maid," arrives from New York, 
and in dramatic yet laughable fashion she turns things 
around, opening the eyes of her former townsmen and 
saving Alma from the "village beau." Running 
through the comedy is a vein of serious undercurrent 
on the status of the unattached female, and a hint as 
to the way out. Every person in the play is a 
"type" that invites the skill of the artistic performer. 
Miss Cannon is the author of many professional stage 
successes as well as an authority on the technique of 
playwriting, and in this comedy she offers rare oppor- 
tunity to a group of skillful character players. 

Professional stage rights reserved and a 
royalty of fifteen dollars required for amateur 
Performance. Price, Per Copy, 50 Cents 



T. S. Denison & Company, Publishers 

623 South Wabash Avenue CHICAGO 



In Hot Tamale Land 

BY 

Geoffrey F. Morgan 

A MUSICAL COMEDY in 2 acts; 10 principals (6 
males, 4 females) and a chorus of any size. 

PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS. 

Ezra McWhackle An American Pickle King 

Bobby Hunter Honest, Though Poor 

Ned and Dick His Two Chums 

Don Soda Di Poppo Ruler of Hot Tamale Land 

Punko Doro Agent of Bullfighters' Union 

Eleanor Ezra's Charming Daughter 

Agatha Fidget Chaperoning Eleanor 

Dolores Daughter of the Don 

Juanita A Shy Sefiorita 

Sefioritas, Toreadors, American Girls and Boys, Amer- 
ican Bluejackets, Herald, etc. 

This musical comedy is ideal for college and high 
school production, having no elaborate stage require- 
ments, though scenery and costumes may be as lavish 
as desired, and it can be made a thoroughly preten- 
tious offering. The scene is laid in an imaginary 
country in the tropics, where raising pickles is the 
nation's business and attending bull fights is the 
nation's pastime. Bobby must earn $10,000" before 
Eleanor's father will consent to her marrying him. 
The bullfighters' union calls a strike, and Bobby vol- 
unteers as a strike breaker. His friends' efforts to 
bolster his waning courage, the walking delegate's 
threats of vengeance, Bobby's study of the science 
from a bullfighting manual — these are just a few of 
the ridiculous complications which combine to make 
IN HOT TAMALE LAND two hours of solid laughter. 
No music is included with the book, but* there is pro- 
vision for introducing solos, ensemble numbers, dances 
and drills, to be chosen by the director. Has been 
produced with great success. Requires but one stage 
setting. Contains detailed directions for staging. 

Price, 35 Cents. 

T. S. Denison & Company, Publishers 

623 South Wabash Avenue CHICAGO 



Betty's Last Bet 

BY 

Edith Ellis 

A FARCE-COMEDY in 3 acts; 5 males, 6 females. 
Time, 2% hours. Scene: 1 interior. 

CHARACTERS. 

Mrs. Darling With Four Great Problems 

Kitty Her Eldest Daughter 

Peggy Her Second 

Dolly Her Third 

Betty Her Fourth 

Hannah A Man-hating Servant 

Richard Wentworth Their Wealthy Neighbor 

Percy Wentworth His Nephew and Ward 

Jack Van Loon Of the Historic Van Loons 

Hamilton Moriarity A Rising Young Legislator 

Edgar Darling A Student of Archaeology 

Betty's propensity for wagering keeps her in hot 
water, and her mother and sisters, too. Mrs. Darling 
is struggling bravely to promote matches for the other 
girls when Betty, expelled from boarding school, re- 
turns home disgraced but unabashed. And straight- 
was' she makes her last bet — and her greatest one — ■ 
with a likeable but unintroduced young man. He wa- 
gers that he can successfully impersonate a distant 
cousin, and get all the sisters engaged within twenty- 
four hours. Three kisses are the stakes. Betty's last 
bet incites an amazing train of complications, and 
when she loses the bet, she loses her heart as well. 
This author has a fine record of professional stage 
successes to her credit, and BETTY'S LAST BET 
is built from the same rich fund of lines and situations. 

Professional stage rights reserved and a 
royalty of twenty dollars required for amateur 
performance. Price, Per Copy, 50 Cents 



T. S. Denison & Company, Publishers 

623 South Wabash Avenue CHICAGO 



Fifty-Fifty 

BY 

Frederick G. Johnson 

A FARCE of love, luck and laughter in 3 acts, by 
the author of "Mary's Millions"; 5 males, 5 fe- 
males. Time, 2 J4 hours. Scenes: 2 interiors, an attic 
studio and a bungalow. 

CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY. 

Henry Brown An Artist 

Paul Green An Author 

Patrick O'Malley A Janitor 

Smudge A Valet 

Cap' A Wanderer 

Mrs. Podge A Landlady 

Sophie Bland A Dancer 

May Dexter An Enthusiast 

Mrs. Hawley A Collector 

Josephine A Seeker 

If there be a moral to this merry comedy of compli- 
cations, it is that it is possible to get too much of a 
good thing. Paul and Henry are struggling to achieve 
fame and bread-and-butter money in literature and 
art. Utter failure is their lot until one of Henry's 
paintings, accidentally displayed upside down, is enthu- 
siastically purchased by an art collector, and the "im- 
pressionistic painter" becomes the talk of the town. 
Paul, following the hunch, writes his stories backward, 
and success follows swiftly. But some innocent fibs, 
told for" reasons of necessity, reach the newspapers, 
and the pals find themselves headed straight for 
trouble. Their love affairs go awry, and in the pre- 
dicaments which follow as a result of their propensity 
for spinning yarns, they find success an empty thing. 
A woman who claims to be Paul's wife, an elusive van- 
ishing painting, a mysterious sea-faring man, a med- 
dling landlady, all contribute to the mixup. Of course 
it all comes out happily. 

Professional stage rights reserved and a 
royalty of fifteen dollars required for amateur 
performance. Price, Per Copy, 50 Cents 

T. S. Denisoii & Company, Publishers 

623 South Wabash Avenue CHICAGO 



Gettin' Acquainted 

BY 

Georgia Earle 

QUAINT, small-town comedy in 1 act; 1 male, 2 
females. Time, 25 minutes. Scene: A New Eng- 
land sitting- room. Played for three years by the 
talented authoress herself, on the Keith and Orpheum 
circuits; in New York, Chicago, Toronto, San Fran- 
cisco, New Orleans and cities in between, it struck a 
new note in vaudeville and has been compared with 
"The Old Homestead," Mary E. Wilkins' stories, etc. 

CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Jane Stewart A Spinster 

Priscilla Stewart Her Sister, Also a Spinster 

John Purdy A Wooer for Fifteen Years 

All have heard of men who courted for years and 
did not "pop"; most communities can furnish living 
examples. The idea has never been used before with 
such clever and sprightly results. Honest, slow-think- 
ing, yet withal determined John Purdy had spent 15 
years just gettin' acquainted with the Stewart sisters, 
Jane and Priscilla. Finally Jane "goes and gets herself 
engaged" to another man but decides to bring matters 
to a focus for Priscilla. She determines to "make it 
snappy" and poor old John is "railroaded" into camp. 
Splendid lines and ."business" so unusually clever as 
to place it almost in a class by itself among one-act 
plays. Like most talented creations, its simplicity 
commends it; well adapted to amateur presentation. 
Very minute directions for staging, acting and "busi- 
ness." Four excellent half-tone reproductions of scenes. 

Professional stage rights reserved and a 
royalty office dollars required for amateur 
performance. Price, Per Copy, 35 Cents 



T. S. Denison & Company, Publishers 

623 S. Wabash Ave. CHICAGO 



How to Stage a Play 




Harry Osborne 

IT TELLS just what you want to 
know in brief space. It will en- 
able you to give a successful en- 
tertainment instead of a failure. 
Fundamental principles and secrets 
of practicable stagecraft are fully 
explained and the illustrations of 
various methods of stage setting are 
of particular value. This book is as 
necessary as the play itself to be- 
ginners. 

CONTENTS. 
Chapter I. — A Successful Amateur 
Production. 
The Play— The Company— Public- 
ity. 

Chapter II. — The Stage Director. 
How Selected— Should He Play a Part?— His Staff 
and Their Duties — The Stage Manager — The Prop- 
erty Man — The Stage Carpenter — Stage Hands — 
The Wardrobe Mistress — Responsibility and Au- 
thority. 
Chapter III. — Preparation for Rehearsals. 
Chapter IV.— The Physical Stage. 
Chapter V. — Rehearsals. 
The First Rehearsal — The Second Rehearsal — The 
Third Rehearsal — Rehearsal Without Parts. 
Chapter VI. — Subsequent Rehearsals. 

Tempo — Interruptions — Dialect Parts — Love Scenes — 
Doing Things Right — Reading Lines — Stage Busi- 
ness—In General. 
Chapter VII. — Dress Rehearsals. 
Chapter VIII. — Musical Comedy. 
Chapter IX.— The Opening Night. 
Chapter X. — Things to Remember. 

Dont's. 
Chapter XL — Stage Lighting. 
Chapter XII. — Scenery. 

Screens — Drapes. 
Chapter XIII. — Make-up and Costumes. 
Chapter XIV.— Mechanical Effects. 
Chapter XV. — Glossary of Stage Terms. 

Price, 25 Cents. 



T. S. DeitisOR & Company, Publishers 

623 S. Wabash Ave. CHICAGO 



OCT 1 * 1928 



